George rang for his footman who showed me out. Jacob disappeared then reappeared when I reached the street corner.
"I'll watch the main door while you go down to the basement," he said. There was a lightness about his step that hadn't been there before, and although he wasn't smiling, I suspected he was controlling it.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"George Culvert deserves us going behind his back to speak to his servants."
"That's not fair, Jacob. I quite like him. Most of the time." Although a gentleman couldn't be expected to treat his servants the way he treated his guests, it had come as something of a shock to see him turn from meek to master when the interrogation began. I'd not have expected it from him. Jacob on the other hand seemed like exactly the sort to order people about, no matter their station.
Jacob regarded me with a raised eyebrow. "You can't possibly like him. He's strange. Who chooses to study demonology for pity's sake?"
"Who chooses to see ghosts?"
Two finely dressed women I hadn't seen approaching quickened their steps as they passed by and lowered their parasols to avoid making eye contact. They must have heard me speaking to Jacob, or rather, to myself. At least they were too scared to give me odd looks.
I checked that no one else was within earshot then muttered, "Let's go. And don't say anything to me unless it's vitally important to my conversation with Maree. You're very off-putting at times."
"I am?" He grinned. Dazzled by his beautiful smile, my irritation disappeared and I grinned back.
We walked side by side to the Culvert house once more. Jacob took the steps up to the main door then vanished. I suppose he'd reappeared on the other side where he could keep a closer watch. I descended the other stairs that led down to the basement entrance used by the servants, not the Culverts themselves. I knocked on the door and a maid answered.
"Hello, I went to the North London School for Domestic Service with Maree Finch. Is she here? I need to speak to her."
It was a bold lie and the maid, a middle-aged matronly woman in white cap and apron, looked suspicious. "You friends wiv her?" she asked. I nodded. "Didn't fink the likes o' her had friends."
"Yes, well, can I see her? I'll be brief," I added when she began to shake her head. "It's about…the passing of a favorite teacher."
The maid heaved a sigh and asked me, grudgingly, to wait while she fetched her.
Jacob came in behind me as Maree emerged from one of the rooms off the narrow hallway, her hands buried in her apron again. She took one look at me and burst into tears.